Return to Highever
by Abyssal Ferret
Summary: Returning to an old life is never easy. Especially when so much has happened, and so much has changed forever. After DA:O.
1. Homecoming

"Thank you Joanlinne, that will do."

Her maid-servant curtsied, the slender elf maiden picking up the towel and scurrying out the door, closing it dutifully behind her.

Elissa stripped off her travelling tunic and breeches, throwing them aside, and tested the water with an outstretched toe. Finding it to be within her range of liking, she slowly trod both legs into the bath and settled into the warm waters. A road weary sigh of exhaustion escaped her lips, and she leaned her head back against the edge of the tub and stared up at the ceiling, letting the warmth soak through her tired body. She sunk back, closing her emerald eyes, finding she almost wanted to fall asleep right then and there, instead of her warm, soft bed. A proper bed, *her* bed, after all this time. She wanted to forget what had happened these past few months, pretend she was a young woman in her father's court again. Finally, some time to her self, without someone expecting anything of her…

She flicked her eyes open, sitting straighter with a lap of water, and ran the scented soap down her long, smooth legs. She watched the wisps of steam rise from the tub, twisting their way and dissipating before they reached the ceiling. She rose her foot out of the water, examining her toes, before submerging it back under the surface.

She'd barely gotten out and started drying her dark hair, when she heard a rasping knock against her chamber door.

"Maker," she cursed, quickly tying the soft towel around her and making haste to the door. Holding the towel to her chest, she opened the door, staring out at whoever it was. Her brother looked momentarily shocked to see her, dripping water onto the floor and wrapped in a towel.

"Fergus?"

He grinned. "Sister, I am sorry to disturb you. I see you're… busy."

"No, never for you. What did you want?"

"Nothing so serious. I just wanted to make sure you were settling in well, and had everything you wanted."

"I'm doing very well, thank you, Fergus. Have you started your duties to Highever already? Pray not."

Fergus laughed. "No rest for the wicked. Or was it the weary. Either way, there's anything but peace and quiet in Highever these days. But do not trouble yourself about it dear sister, I'll take care of it. You of all people deserve a rest."

Elissa looked troubled. "But we only just got back! Surely you could just let one of your generals handle affairs for one night."

Fergus put his weight onto his left foot, scratching the skin of his arm awkwardly.

"You know Peth, he'd have darkspawn ruling the kingdom by breakfast if I left him in control."

Elissa chuckled. "Peth has his uses. But for this matter I agree with you, brother."

They both grinned heart-warmingly at each other, and then Fergus stood straighter.

"Come down and seek me out when you've rested. There's much to discuss."

"Of course. I will definitely." She spoke.

The two of them stood there taking each other in, still not believing the other to still be alive, before Fergus bowed, taking his leave and closing the door gently behind him.

Elissa stood there for a few moments, staring at the wood in the door. She'd never hoped in all of the past few months that her brother had lived, but the Maker had smiled upon them.

She hastily tied her bed-robe around her, collapsing on the four-posted bed and concealing herself among the pillows. She would sleep well this night, the first for a long time without any dreams of dragons or darkspawn.


	2. Chill Winds

The velvet curtains blew back from the window, softly dancing before settling silently, becoming still. The cold night air streaked through the room to the four-poster bed and its lone inhabitant. She shivered involuntarily, turning to her right and clutching at a plush pillow, drawing it to her chest with a soft sigh. The fire burned low in its hearth, the final embers glowing amber orange, a stark contrast to the blue light pervading through the window from the moonless night. Another soft gust extended into the room.

"Alistair…" Elissa whispered in her sleep, growing restless and turning again.

A slight clicking noise startled her out of her sleep, and she jerked upright, staring wide-eyed about the room. The curtains still blew near the window. She rubbed the gathering sleep out of her eyes, pulling the bed sheets away and softly rising out of her bed. The stone floor was chill under her bare feet. She made her way over to the window, drawing the curtains closed and tying them. Standing there with her arms folded, she stared at the closed curtains blowing in the wind, and a silent shiver ran down her spine.

Winter was fast approaching.

The route to the Dwarven city of Orzimar would be closing to travelling merchants. The farmers would be tilling their crop, ready for planting next season. Last season's animals would be being slaughtered, to allow those left behind to have enough to be fed. People would be cutting the dead trees of the season, keeping their household warm through the long winter nights, bunkering down for the winds and snowstorms common to Ferelden. A season was over, and the cycle was starting once more anew. The plants which's leaves grew green last summer were dying, and soon those times would be naught but distant memories. All things pass in cycles, some survive while others fade away.

Elissa sighed again, finding herself longing for days which were long past.

Finally pulling herself out of her reverie she strode over to her fireplace, stoking the ashes and throwing on wood from the pile nearby. She watched as the flames came to life, feeding off the dried and dead wood, once living trees.

_It is necessary for there to be death, in order for there to be life_, she reminded herself. The thought didn't make the reality any easier to bear, however. She collapsed into a nearby chair, throwing a blanket around herself and staring into the embers.

Her parents were gone, the king was gone, Duncan was gone, Alistair was gone. She remained, the last of the last season's crop, her time seemingly already spent. Yesterday she had been a vibrant youth, her entire life spread out before her full of promise. Today she felt old, alone, like her purpose had already come to pass.

When would she be the wood in the fire?


End file.
